Third and Long: A Sports Romance (5 page)

All day long I’ve been trying to pick out the right outfit. Gwen keeps vetoing my choices. My argument is that if she’s already pushing me out of my comfort zone, I ought to be able to wear jeans and a sweater. She threatens me with real physical harm if I walk out the door wearing jeans. Finally, she resorts to her own closet to “save my pussy” as she calls it.

Little black dress. Four inch heels. The last time I dressed like this, Gwen and I tried to join a sorority. We both bombed out of all that. Gwen liked the “sex with athletes” part, so she’s been freelancing that ever since.

Gwen makes me do a runway walk in our tiny apartment before I head out. Walking in the heels, I trip and nearly break my neck. The struggle is very real. Eventually I get the hang of it or at least I can pretend.

“Get it girl,” Gwen says.

“I’m going to get you back for this bitch,” I say, wearing more makeup than I’ve worn in years.

“Promise me one thing, Tam.”

“Don’t make me promise to bang the guy.”

She bites her lip, thinking of something else to say. “Promise me you’ll at least consider it. You
need
this girl.”

“I promise that I won’t tell the guy I have ebola to get out of him trying to kiss me.”

“Holy shit! It’s a start. Go get ‘em babe,” she says. The Uber app on her phone buzzes, and she dramatically throws the front door open for me. My date awaits.

My Uber driver takes me around to the other side of the university. Rome is built around the University of Southern Texas. There’s a main strip of college bars, and for a brief moment I hope that’s where we’re going. I can do some drinks and maybe a little dancing. However given the importance that Gwen put on my dress, I’m probably not going to be that lucky.

The driver keeps going past the dumpy college bars to the nice part of town. There’s a handful of exclusive restaurants away from the campus. They tend to service the top university brass and visiting football personnel. Definitely not the kind of place that a regular college kid would take a blind date. Naturally, my anxiety starts to kick in again.

At last I’m dropped off in front of Marquise Steakhouse. It’s a five-star joint that’s legendary for being way outside everyone’s price range. It’s a chilly and windy October night, making the fact that I’m wearing basically nothing even worse. Fortunately inside the restaurant a roaring fire starts to warm me right up. A cute hostess greets me by the door.

“Tamber Long,” I say, feeling silly that I can’t say the name of my date.

“Certainly, right this way,” she says.

I follow her through the absolutely gorgeous restaurant. Golden chandeliers hang from the ceiling, every table is lit by a votive candle surrounded by rose petals. A brick face facade lines the the interior walls. The centerpiece is the roaring fireplace that greeted me when I walked through the doors. Couples sit around it sipping martinis waiting for their table. My hostess leads me past all of them into an exclusive dining area where every table is recessed into the wall.

The VIP section in an exclusive restaurant, Gwen Tully what did you get me in to? I see the back of my date reading the menu. He’s huge, broad-shouldered. I recognize those shoulders. Two glasses of red wine sit on our table. Good. I need a drink.

“Here you are, Mrs. Long,” my hostess says.

“I should have known,” I say, sitting down before I even see my date’s face.

“You figured it out?” he asks, flashing me a smile complimented by his clear blue eyes.

“This wasn’t a blind date for you was it?” I ask.

“Told you I’d get your number by the end of the week,” he says.

He takes a sip of his wine, and I do the same. Talk about feeling on edge. Had I known I was talking to a cocky billionaire playboy out on the track, I’d never have made the bet. Of course he figured out how to get ahold of me. He probably gets anything he wants whenever he wants it!

If I had really thought about it, I should have realized that Gwen was going to set me up with Logan. She certainly noticed my reaction to his Instagram.

Logan shaved since the last time I saw him. Seems like he got a hair cut too. Everything about his appearance is perfectly done. His suit fits his muscular body tightly. His thin black jacket barely hides his broad, powerful muscles. A skinny black tie hangs down the middle of his chest down to his waist, reminding me of the rock hard abs underneath his shirt.

“You don’t technically have my phone number,” I say, knowing that Gwen wouldn’t have given it out without my permission.

“That’s all right. I’ve still got some time.”

There’s no hint of sarcasm in his voice. He’s actually serious! He stares at me like he already owns me. What an absolute ass. Why did Gwen think this was ever going to work?

Thankfully our waitress comes by and takes our appetizer order. I stick with a Caesar salad as if I’ll be able to eat anything anyway. I’m not sure what makes me more nervous. That I’m on date with a guy that could buy and sell my entire family, or that Gwen’s little black dress is riding up my legs. There’s also the third option: Gwen in all her infinite wisdom and big fucking mouth probably told Logan that I needed to get fucked.

“So you’re kind of famous,” I say, feeling like it would be impolite to bring up his money on the first date.

“Told you that you knew me.”

“Would you believe I didn’t? I’ve found some things out in the meantime.”

He doesn’t say anything. Instead he’s studying me, figuring out where I’m going with this.

“Nice game last week.”

His eyes light up. “You were there?”

“Gwen forced me to take a break from my homework.”

“Good friend.”

“Sometimes.”

“Like now?” he asks.

“She likes making me uncomfortable,” I say.

“You’re uncomfortable?” he asks. I can tell he takes it personally which is nice. I suppose he wants me to have a good time.

Before answering, I take a nice long sip of my wine. He really is an devastatingly handsome guy. It’s a shame we are completely incompatible for each other.

“I’m afraid that Gwen might have been a little overzealous in setting us up,” I say.

“Hey, I’m the one that wanted to go out with you!” he says laughing.

His easy manner is infectious. I wish I was able to unwind like him. I figure a guy with that much money and talent must not have a single care in the whole wide world, except for whether or not he can get girls like me in bed.

“Sure, but you don’t know me,” I say. Gwen’s going to hate that I’m trying to shut him down so soon.

“I know you’re a super smart workaholic who doesn’t realize how cute she actually is,” he says.

I blush. I actually blush like a horny school girl.

“And you’re a billionaire party boy jock. Not really my type.”

“What’s your type?” he asks.

“Quiet, bookish, nerdy.”

“Opposites attract, you know,” he says without missing a beat.

“I’m not sure I can keep up with your lifestyle,” I say alluding to his late night antics.

“And what lifestyle would that be?”

“The one where everyone gives you exactly what you want because of who you are,” I say.

He looks around the restaurant, and I can tell my comment bothers him. How could he expect people to view him any differently?

“Everyone assumes I like that life. You know? Everyone assumes I want to live the rest of my life in a mansion where people wait on me hand and foot.”

“Sounds terrible,” I say.

“I know you’re joking but—”

“No I’m not joking. It sounds boring as fuck.”

“See I knew I liked you,” he says.

Our salads come and I take a few bites. Logan devours his. We have steaks on the way. I’m not a huge meat fan, but given my lack of appetite anyway, I’m not too worried about it. Meanwhile the wine is going down very, very easy. Logan has a whole bottle brought out to the table. I shudder to think how much this place charges for a bottle of Pinot.

“Tell me what it’s like to be Logan Oliver III,” I ask.

“You first,” he says. “Tell me what it’s like to be Tamber Long. Because all I know is that you’re the amazingly cute girl with the great ass and the great legs that I’ve been dreaming about for two weeks.”

I damn near choke on my wine. “Dreaming?”

“That may be a strong word but…”

“Logan the night after you met me you went out with two cheerleaders!”

“Fair point but—”

“To answer your question, I’m like the polar opposite of you. I come from nothing. School is my only path out of the dirt poor town my parents ended up in. I’m never going back there. There’s no mansion back where I come from.”

He smiles. His eyes travel all over my body. When I notice him checking out my breasts, he goes right back to my face. He’s trying to be sly, but I caught him. Granted I can’t stop looking at his blue eyes, and I wouldn’t mind getting another look at his bare arms. Stupid formal wear.

We would never in a million years work. A guy with that kind of money and privilege has no appeal to me. I’m sure he’s every girl’s dream, but not mine. Doesn’t mean I can’t admire a handsome man when I see one.

“Being me is complicated. Everyone in the world has an opinion on how I should run my life. Do you know why I play football?”

“Because you like getting pounded by men?”

He laughs.

“Okay that came out wrong,” I apologize.

“It’s the one place where people actually expect me to prove myself,” he says.

“Bullshit.”

“I’m serious. Everyone thinks I’m some entitled party body.”

“Well…” I interrupt him with a wry smile.

“Meanwhile, I go out and score four touchdowns. We destroyed Auburn, but because everyone saw me partying the night before suddenly I’m untrustworthy. I don’t do things their way, and they hate that.”

“Who’s they?” I ask.

“Does it matter? The media, my coach, my dad, agents, pro scouts. Constant, constant scrutiny.”

“Sounds like it’s enough to drive a person crazy,” I say, feeling some sympathy for him. To be honest, I don’t feel too bad for him since he’s still rich as fuck, but I get it.

“People watch what I do every single day,” he mutters.

“See there you go. I would hate that. If my face shows up on one of those gossip blogs, I’d never speak to you again.”

He sees me smiling, but I’m mostly serious. The last thing I need in my life is some gossip site talking about my date with Logan Oliver III. Talk about distraction.

The steaks arrive with sweet potatoes and roasted Brussels sprouts on the side. I pick over mine, taking a few bites before returning to the wine. I realize that I’m drinking too fast, but it’s the only thing that’s calming my nerves. I’m supposed to be on a date, and I feel like I’m sparring with Logan. I never thought I’d be trying to prove to a trust fund baby that I have had the harder life.

“You’d never date a guy like me would you?” he asks.

I think about it. He’s so fucking handsome. Gwen is right even though I’ll never admit it to her. I do need to get laid. That’s the wine talking. It’s all distraction. My mom had her whole life ahead of her and then she allowed one night of distraction. Now look at her.

I keep telling myself it doesn’t have to be like that. It doesn’t matter. In the back of my head all I can think about is my mom explaining how she met my dad. Granted dad wasn’t a billionaire, but it’s all the same. Settle. End up pregnant. Toss out all your dreams. That’s the life that scares me. That’s the life I don’t want.

“You’re a nice guy Logan,” I say, taking a pause, sipping some wine, figuring out my thoughts. “A nice guy with a life full of drama.”

“You’re talking about the paparazzi?”

Gwen would find it hilarious if the paparazzi camped outside our apartment because they caught wind that I’m seeing Logan. A nightmare scenario plays out in my head where I’m running late for my last class and I get ambushed by them. I can see the headline now: “Girl arrested for punching reporter, reportedly screaming I HAVE A PROJECT TO TURN IN!”

“You know why I was so secretive about this date? No one has any idea we’re here.”

“I think we’d be better friends than anything else,” I say. When the words come out of my mouth, I immediately want to put them back! Who says something like that? Me. Tamber Long. Professional idiot. Gwen is going to kill me.

Somehow when I opened my mouth the words that hadn’t really full formed in my brain came tumbling out. Disappointment is so damn evident on his face. He looks like a guy who just put a ton of money on red only for the roulette ball to land on black. After a few awkward moments, the disappointment on his face turns to resigned respect.

Logan sighs and then smiles. “I had to try right? By the way, remember what I was supposed to win for getting your number?”

I think about it. Then it hits me. “A date.”

He laughs. I giggle. What are we even doing?